Agent Smith Studies: Kittens
by Troll
Summary: The title says it all really. This is one of the few non-slash Smith fics. Please R&R!
1. Agent Smith Studies: Kittens

Agent Smith Studies: Kittens  
  
"Why do they persist to keep these...creatures." He stated rather than asked, it was rhetorical and therefore did not require an answer. Smith raised the small bundle of codes and instructions before his eyes by the scruff of its neck. Then looked again as a human would.  
  
This is an experiment after all. He smirked at the thought.  
  
The small grey kitten looked into Smith's eyes and 'meowed' innocently. It did not like the scent of this stranger and was eager to return to rest of the litter to feed. It looked around. The other kittens were sitting in a small cardboard box at the feet of the man.  
  
"Jones, why do you suppose they keep them?" Smith turned and looked at his colleague, who was standing with Agent Green at the door way of the office.  
  
"Perhaps they find amusement in them." He looked at the kitten who wrinkled its nose at him. He turned his head slightly and continued to stare at the wall on the other side of the room, appearing to be deep in thought.  
  
"Amusement." Smith muttered. He search his memory log for the human meaning of the word.  
  
Amusement: The act or an instance of amusing or the state of being amused.  
  
He had an idea.  
  
He walked to the office window, his two associates close behind. He opened the window and gazed out.  
  
They were thirty-five stories up.   
  
He dropped the kitten out of the window. It plunged towards the ground.  
  
It meowed piteously as it fell.   
  
The Agents watched and waited.   
  
The kitten watched on in horror as the ground rushed up to meet him. He was curious for a moment.   
  
But only for a moment.  
  
There was a brief outcry as a passerby in the street was struck by a falling kitten.  
  
"Green would you say that was amusing?" He asked, still looking out the window. His face was passive.   
  
"Negative. It seemed pointless." He turned and walked back to his station at the door.  
  
Smith grinned. "I agree. Let us continue this experiment. Jones, bring me another kitten."   
  
******  
  
Green looked at Smith sardonically. "A you certain that you are not enjoying this. That was the sixth one. People in the street are calling the police to investigate. Perhaps you should try another method."  
  
"Very well then." Smith sounded disappointed. "What would you suggest we do then?"  
  
"The humans describe them as 'cute' perhaps we should investigates what makes this so." He turned his attentions elsewhere, this was beginning to bore him.  
  
"Hmm, we could test their physical properties then and ascertain what aspect makes them 'cute'." Jones suggested, Smith liked where this was going.  
  
"Hand me a kitten." Jones did so. "I will require some medical equipment."   
  
A metallic table materialized in the middle of the office. Surgical tools appeared on it.  
  
Green walked to the window and shut it. Smith looked at him inquiringly.  
  
"It was becoming drafty." He stated. Smith shrugged, then placed the kitten on the table. He picked up a scalpel.  
  
Holding the kitten firmly on the table in one hand, he held the scalpel an inch from its tiny throat. The kitten gulped.   
  
"Wait." Green said quickly. Smith looked at him, Green had his finger held against his earpiece.   
  
"What is it?" He asked testily.  
  
"Rebels." Green replied.  
  
"Morpheus?" A nod from Green.  
  
Smith looked at the kitten. "Perhaps next time my friend."  
  
The three Agents disappeared, leaving only three bewildered people standing in their places, wondering where they were, what the hell had just happened and kittens were playing at their feet.  
  
[Few kittens were harmed in the making of this fanfic. - Troll] 


	2. Agent Smith Studies: Drugs

Agent Smith Studies: Drugs  
  
"Such monotony. I do not understand why they continue to go on." Smith was saying as Agents Brown, Jones and himself were walking down a tightly packed city street, however people tended to move out of their way, not wanting to disrupt these men who seemed so full of purpose.  
  
"I understand that they break up such monotony with diversions, such as recreational activities and hobbies." Brown looked around at the stony faces around him. Humans are so dull and predictable, he thought.  
  
"Narcotics and various other medicinal substances are used to fend off boredom, at least thats what the historical records show. Apparently a whole culture based around drug-use sprung up during their early history. They called them 'Hippies'." Agent Jones read from a small palm-top computer. They must appear normal, discrete.  
  
Inconspicuous.  
  
"Drugs." An interesting concept Smith thought, perhaps even worth studying.  
  
"There." Jones pointed at a man in the street, he was wearing a tie-dyed t-shirt and a faded brown beanie. "He is what they call a Hippie. He will know where we may find out about drugs."  
  
"I will handle this." Smith said. He uploaded 'Drug Slang' into his vocabulary, and walked over to the man.  
  
Smith cleared his throat. The man took one look at his suit, sunglasses and earpiece and ran.   
  
He wasn't fast enough.  
  
Smith held the man by the collar of his shirt, about a foot off the ground.  
  
"Whoah man! No need to be doin' that. I don't got any gear on me, put me down! I wanna lawyer!" The man alternated between begging for his freedom and demanding it.  
  
"Do not worry Mr Jenson. Everything is 'cool', I'm not here to 'bust a cap in your bitch-ass'. I merely wish to purchase some of your 'shit'. Do you 'get me'?" Smith's face was absolutely straight, his voice deadly serious. He put the hippy down.  
  
The hippy relaxed. "Sure man, I can get you a fix. Come with me." He gestured for the Agents to follow him. He led them into an alley.  
  
"Shop is open boys, unfortunately 'cause some pigs busted my stash this morning I only got a few joints. Will that do?" He pulled three joints out of his pocket and brushed them off.  
  
Brown turned his head slightly towards Jones and whispered, "Did you understand anything he just said?"  
  
Jones shook his head slightly. "Smith will handle it."  
  
Brown nodded his understanding.  
  
"Yes, these will suffice." Smith snatched the joints out of the hippy's hand and began to walk away.  
  
"Hey man! Give that shit back you ain't paid for it yet!" The hippy started after Smith, who, quick as a flash, whipped out his pistol and shot the hippy in the head.  
  
"Hmm, so that is bustin' a cap in someone's ass." He said as the body slumped to the ground.  
  
"Come, let us find somewhere private to try this 'gear'." Smith's two colleagues followed him as he left the hippy and the alley behind.  
  
*******  
  
"Whoah." Brown was sitting in a corner looking at his hands in wonder, a look of bliss upon his normally expressionless face, muttering to himself.  
  
Jones came running past, pistol blaring behind him as he attempted to shoot 'the funny pink elephant' that was chasing him.  
  
"Help me! The oranges are preparing for a counter attack!" He shouted as he leapt over a sofa, using it as a barricade.  
  
Smith watched with bemusement from the apartments small kitchen. "They've gone completely mad. Surely these drugs are powerful things. But unlike them I am more powerful. More in control. Isn't that right Mr Spoon."   
  
Mr Spoon jumped onto Smith's shoulder.  
  
"Yes. You are." The spoon giggled maniacally at the scene surrounding it.  
  
Then Smith had an interesting thought.  
  
There was no spoon.  
  
[I hope you all enjoyed that one. The views and actions expressed by Agent Smith, ie, killing hippies, does not in any way reflect my opinion. But can you guess what the moral of the story is? Thats right, don't do drugs. Cause drugs are bad M'kay? - Troll] 


	3. Agent Smith Studies: Women

[Heya Smith Fans! Agent Smith is back by popular demand in his most difficult assignment to date. Please, sit back and enjoy yourselves as Agent Smith Studies Women (Well, tries to). - Troll]   
Agent Smith Studies: Women   
He'd been slapped five times that night as he had attempted to convince a "lucky" lady to retire with him to his "crib" so that he might study her physiology in more detail.   
"This is proving more difficult than I had anticipated." Agent Smith mused aloud. As he returned to the clubs bar where his associates Jones and Brown were seated with bemused expressions on their faces, nursing icy beers.   
"Perhaps they find your outfit threatening?" Jones ventured, covering a smirk by sipping his drink.   
"What's wrong with my suit?" Smith asked, his face briefly showing his hurt before he erased the emotion and resumed his normal expression; severe displeasure.   
"Nothing, it is merely not the kind of attire one would wear at a, ahem, "club" scene." Brown informed him.   
"Then let us find something more suitable." He laughed at his own wit. The other two Agents exchanged worried glances, then coughed politely.   
"Suit-able. Come on, it was amusing." Smith said.   
Silence.   
Smith glowered. "Come then, let us find more "appropriate" attire."   
*******   
Five minutes and a small shopping spree later....   
*******   
"I still don't think purple is my colour..." Brown muttered as they boldly made their way back to the bar. His pimp-esque floppy hat fell over his eyes again, then he tripped over his baggy pants.   
"Desist your complaining "homie", we are here to "score", stop being such a baby." Jones told him. He was wearing a sleeveless black top, with scruffy denim jeans, he still however retained his hair style and shades.   
"Quiet, the both of you, I am going to try again." Smith puffed out his chest, then readjusted his backwards baseball cap, hitched up his cargo pants, which had slid down over his boxers and made his way towards the nearest lady.   
She was dancing, then flicked her long dark hair behind her shoulder as she saw another idiot approach.   
Smith cleared his throat as he stood next to her. She ignored him.   
"Hey "baby" what say you and me go back to my place so you can "shake your booty" for me and I can study you more closely?" He said with an air of confidence.   
"No."   
"Are you sure?"   
"Listen bud, if you don't leave me alone I'll get security over here and they'll throw your bitch ass outta here." She turned to leave.   
"Uh, sure." Smith couldn't help but feel disappointed. He dejectedly walked back to his companions.   
"Well?" Jones asked him.   
"She was a lesbian." Smith said, not wanting to lose face.   
"Another one?" Brown asked sorrowfully. He took a swill of his beer.   
"Yes."   
Jones stood up and stretched his arms, flexing muscles.   
"I would like to attempt this experiment. Smith, sit down." Smith snatched away Jones' beer, and watched with humour as Jones made his way into the dance floor.   
He will not suceed. Smith thought to himself, after all, if I cannot convince a woman, what are his chances?   
*******   
Minutes passed. Much beer was consumed, along with some peanuts.   
*******   
"Where do you suppose he is?" Brown asked Smith.   
"Still on the dance floor. Wait. There he is." Smith pointed to Jones, who was being led to the clubs exit by a beautiful woman. Jones saw him, and with his free hand gave the 'thumbs up' signal, a large grin on his face.   
Smith and Brown sat with open jaws as Jones left.   
"Son of a bitch!" They both exclaimed at the same time.   
"Well my friend,' Smith said to Brown after a while, 'It would appear that we will never understand women." Brown raised his glass.   
"Here's to bachelors."   
"I'll drink to that." Smith said.   
[ As a side note I would like to say to all those people who are going to say "Poor Smith, he didn't get any." fear not, as Jones didn't either. You see the woman that he had "convinced" took him back to her apartment and had just taken off his pants when her husband arrived on the scene. Here's what happened:   
Jones grabbed his pants and made a run for the door, dodging thrown crockery as he did so.   
"If I ever catch you with my wife again I'll kill you punk!" The woman's husband called as Jones fled down the corridor, pants clutched tightly to his chest.  
He ran for a few minutes, then Smith and Brown appeared, having just left the club.   
They all stopped.   
"Well, well, well." Smith said, looking up and down at Jones.   
"Why aren't you wearing any pants?" Brown asked.   
"The woman had a husband." Jones said in explanation.   
"Not such a ladies man then are we Jones?" Smith smirked.   
****   
Coming soon: Agent Smith Studies: Art   
- Troll] 


End file.
